


Inevitable

by MediocreWritings101



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Gay Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Jealous Harry, M/M, Mirror of Erised, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:53:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25358752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MediocreWritings101/pseuds/MediocreWritings101
Summary: All Harry wanted was to finally have a peaceful year at Hogwarts. No murderous teachers, no cursed objects, no destroying evil noseless overlords. And above all else, not falling head over heels in love with Draco Malfoy.It's just a shame that the last one seemed to be inevitable.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Theodore Nott, Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 17
Kudos: 97





	1. chapter one

Harry watched the tops of fir tree's fade into mountainous rocky caverns and lakes stretching out for miles as the Hogwarts Express sped through the countryside, making its familiar journey up the Scottish highlands. He'd never planned on going back to Hogwarts, after everything the previous year had put him through, the idea of going back to school, sitting in a classroom and doing homework seemed bizarre. He no longer felt like a child- not a man either- but stuck in that awkward space between.

The ministry had been eager to swipe him up as quickly as possible, they loved the idea of Harry being their poster boy- to use him as a way of fixing their rocky reputation. They wanted him to attend fundraisers and give interviews to the prophet on their behalf, to stand up and defend them. In their eyes, he was the perfect puppet. Because if the boy who lived said the ministry was doing good work- well the rest of the world would follow.

He'd turned them down instantly.

It had been Ron and Hermione of course, who'd convinced him to go back. They'd just been so excited, buying robes and books in Diagon alley like first years and the enthusiasm was catching. He'd found himself buying a new set of quills- _just in case-_ when they'd dragged him along with them for moral support and then snuck back the next day for a new trunk. Whatever devious ploy they had in place, it had worked.

All it took was a few more weeks of Hermione pointing out that _surely he needed to finish his NEWTS if he wanted to become an Auror?_ and Ron asking _what are you going to do without us all year?_ Before Harry finally broke and decided that he might as well come along after all.

And so once again, Harry found himself on the Hogwarts express, with Ginny curled up on his lap, Ron bickering with Hermione and Luna trying to teach Neville the proper way to harvest leaping toadstools.

"I wonder if we're going to have to hire bodyguards for Harry this year." Ginny teased, "So he doesn't get mobbed by first years every time he tries to take a piss or eat a sandwich.

"Oh Merlin, I'm going to have to spend the whole year under the clock aren't I?" Harry groaned, leaning into Ginny's side and breathing in her familiar smell of lavender and candle wax.

"You know Harry..." Ron said thoughtfully, " I think Lockheart might have been onto something."

"Excuse me?" Hermione snorted.

"We are talking about the same man who faked all of his achievements and then tried to obliviate the both of us right?" Harry said, raising his eyebrows at Ron who shifted guiltily.

"Well yeah, obviously he was a massive prat and all...but selling your autographs might not be a half-bad idea. I'm sure there are kids out there who'd be willing to fork out a couple of galleons for one."

Ginny cackled as she caught wind of his mortified expression. "Don't worry Harry, if you start selling your pants to kids, I'll be sure to stage an intervention."

They all laughed except for Luna who smiled dreamily. "I wonder what would happen if I tried to sell my pants."

Hermione looked vaguely scandalised whilst Neville turned a brilliant shade of pillar-box red. Everyone knew he nursed a soft spot for Luna, who had turned him down gracefully at the start of the summer, saying that she couldn't possibly be in a relationship at that time and besides, Hannah Abbot was interested in him. Neville had taken it fairly well, and last Harry had heard, he'd been writing to Hannah all through the holidays.

"Ron, if I find you or Dean rummaging through my trunk, there will be hell to pay." He threatened with as much dignity as he could muster.

Hermione frowned slightly, "You might not be in a dorm with each other though."

All three boys turned to look at her, confusion etched on their faces. "What do you mean? Why wouldn't be together?" Neville asked in bewilderment and Hermione stared at them.

"You mean...you don't actually know?"

Very slowly, they all shook their heads.

"Oh honestly," Hermione sighed in exasperation. "It was all in the letter. You really ought to start paying more attention. All eighth years are being put together, we'll be sharing a common room and dormitories."

"But why?" Ron asked, aghast and Harry tried to swallow down the nausea building in his throat.

Gryffindor had been part of his identity, his home. The idea of that suddenly being taken away made him feel like he was losing a limb and judging by the others' expressions, they felt the same way.

Hermione shrugged. "I think it was McGonagall's idea. The board wanted to get rid the others altogether and this was the only way she could stop them. It's supposed to encourage inter-house unity."

"By making you share with a bunch of Slytherins?" Ginny exclaimed.

"I didn't think any of them would come back," Harry admitted, vaguely surprised by the idea.

Neville nodded solemnly. "A couple have yeah. Mainly the pureblood kids whose parents want them to uphold their reputation."

There was a moment of silence before Ron interrupted it with a sudden thought. "Wait, surely Malfoy's not back?"

Harry's stomach clenched. Malfoy.

The last time he'd seen him was across the courtroom at his trial. Malfoy had looked younger than he'd done in years, his face pale and hollow with dark circles under his eyes as though he hadn't sleep in days. There was something haunted in his expression, Sirius had it too. It was the look of someone who'd spend too long in Azkaban.

It was that look which had motivated Harry to testify for Draco. He didn't want it becoming permanent.

In the end, Malfoy and Narcissa had escaped with just probation but Lucius was sentenced to ten years. Harry tried too hard not to think about the way Malfoy's face had crumpled when they announced his father's fate.

Just a few days later, an elegant tawny owl had tapped on the window of Grimald place, a bottle of wine and a later embossed with the Malfoy family crest attached to its leg.

_Potter,_

_A thank you from my mother and me, as there is no doubt that if it wasn't for your words, we'd both still be rotting in a charming little cell in Azkaban._

_Yours,_

_Draco Lucius Abraxas_ _Malfoy_

He'd found himself reading the letter over and over again in the days that followed as if trying to uncover some deeper meaning. But each time, his frustration would grow. It was just so hollow and superficial. He didn't know what he was expecting- an apology maybe? An explanation? He knew he was being stupid, this was just exactly the sort of thing Malfoy would do. He could practically hear his snobby voice echoing off the parchment.

"Oh yes, Draco's coming back." Luna declared, and Harry stared at her in surprise. "He didn't want to but Narcissa insisted. She wants him to get his NEWTS so he'll be able to get a job."

"Luna..." Harry asked, "How do you know all this?"

She smiled, unaware of the confused looks being shot her way by everyone in the carriage. "Draco's my cousin. We owl a lot."

"Pardon?" Harry spluttered.

"Well, second cousin maybe? I'm not too sure. All pureblood families are so intercrossed these days."

Hermione looked horrified. "But Luna, they kept you captive in their basement!"

Luna simply shrugged and fiddled with her tie. "Oh but that wasn't Draco's fault. He kept me company most of the time I was there anyway. He reached out over the summer to apologise and now we get along quite nicely. We've made plans to visit Malaysia next year and go hunting crumple-horned snorkacks."

Harry suddenly felt a random burst of resentment towards Luna and Malfoy. So he'd taken the time to apologise to her? And not him? How many more of his friends were secretly bonding with Malfoy?

"Harry?" He broke out of his sulk by Hermione, who was watching him with a strange expression on her face. He squirmed under her gaze, feeling like a child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Sorry," He said, clearing his throat, "zoned out. So shall we take bets on which teacher will try to kill me this year?"

***

A few carriages down sat Draco Malfoy himself, stretched out across the plush velvet seats with his head in Pansy Parkinson's lap. Blaise Zabini occupied the other side, leisurely resting his long legs on Draco.

The three of them have always been inseparable, ever since a five-year-old Pansy had marched up to Draco during a stuffy sacred twenty-eight party and introduced herself with Blaise trailing around after her, already batting his long eyelashes at whoever took his fancy. After that night, barely a week went by without the three of them seeing each other.

It was probably their closeness and open affection towards one another that fuelled the rumours about the three of them. Draco's favourite was there one where they're secretly in a polyamorous relationship and occasionally have foursomes with Justin Finch-Fletchly. He highly suspects that Justin was the one to start that particular rumour.

However, it was most widely believed that Draco and Pansy would marry once they left school and pop out some perfect pureblood heirs. They'd tried dating around the fourth year, but that also happened to be the year of Draco's big gay crisis and needless to say, it didn't work out. In the aftermath, he and Blaise had fooled around a couple of times but nothing ever came of it. The three of them were just too close, dating seemed incomprehensible.

"Draco darling, please relax. I can just feel the tension radiating off of you." Pansy sighed, twisting her manicured fingers through his hair.

"Lay off Pans." He finally brought up the topic that had been lingering in the air since they boarded the train but none of them wanted to confront. "You know as well as I do how dreadful this year's going to be for us."

Pansy's fingers froze for a second but resumed their stroking when Blaise spoke, using the tone of voice he usually saved for seducing people into business transactions. "I've been thinking about that a lot." Of course, he had, always one step ahead. "And we need to be very smart. Slytherin house is obviously going to be targeted, we're the scapegoats after all. Draco, they'll go after you in particular."

Draco snorted, "How shocking." Pansy flicked him angrily and he subsided. "Okay, okay. Sorry. Carry on."

"My first tactic would be for us to keep our heads down. But we can't run the risk of looking weak, we need to present a united front but without looking cocky. I would say our best bet is to befriend the Gryffindors."

"You've got to be joking!" Draco exclaimed at the same time Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Come on Blaise, there's no way they would fall for that."

"It doesn't have to be some ploy. I'm suggesting we make a genuine effort. That way our actions will look natural. They have the most influence, especially Potter and his crew. Going against them would be publicly painting a target on our backs. " Blaise replied cooly, and its moments like these where Draco can see his mother coming out in him.

Almost six foot tall with dark skin and hair which glittered like the sun, Maria Zabini looked like a goddess amongst people. The first time Blaise introduced her to Draco, he had dropped the glass he was holding and instantly understood how men were so enchanted by her, despite knowing full well what happened to her husbands. She oozed charisma and charm, knowing exactly what to say to captive people- a skill she had taught Blaise. He'd seen in it action before, teachers being turned into blushing schoolgirls as he flirted his way out of detention or when a sixth-year boy had done his transfiguration for a month just because Blaise had smiled at him. And now Blaise was going to use it to stop Draco from getting hexed into oblivion by angry fourteen-year-olds.

"I suppose we can try but don't expect to see me making daisy chains with Longbottom or knitting jumpers for the Weasel anytime time soon." Draco drawled and Blaise chuckled fondly.

"Darling I might curse you myself I saw that." Pansy raised her eyebrows and he sat up, wrapping an arm around her shoulders loosely.

"Never. You would miss my face and hilarious quick-wit too much."

"Oh I don't know, I heard Jessica Houston has a new ferret who could replace you just fine." She replied dryly and Draco gasped indignantly, drawing away from her and pouting whilst Blaise laughed at him.

"Chin up Draco, we can find a pug somewhere for Pansy." He pointed out to Draco's amusement and Pansy's horror.

Although Pansy was beginning to look significantly less pug-ish as the days went by. She'd grown out her chopping bob and her grown into her face, the result being rather stunning. He'd always known she was attractive but now it seemed to have blossomed. He'd have to be stepping into protective best friend mode to prevent her heart from being broken by some gangly limbed twat.

"Have you heard from the others much? Greg's in hiding up in Russia with his mother." He changed the subject before Pansy could inflict her wrath. "I'm not sure what they're expecting. It'll only be a matter of time before the ministry tracks him down."

He'd tried so hard to talk him out of it, convince him that it would be better to be sentenced now rather than later. But Greg knew that if he did, they'd be quick to throw him in Azkaban and chuck away the key- to make an example of him. Truth be told, Draco couldn't blame him for running away. The three months he'd spent in Azkaban before the trial almost killed him. The dementors took every last shred of joy and happiness out of him, tearing him apart bit by bit until he was left delirious with grief. The guards weren't any better. The ministry had a penance for hiring the victims of war crimes, people who'd lost their families to death eaters. In their eyes, Draco was their chance at retribution, a way to take out their own anger.

The day before his trial, he tried to hang himself with his own bedsheets. 

It took weeks for Draco to function properly again, weeks of waking up screaming, drenched in his own sweat with Pansy held him close and Blaise made tea. He wouldn't have survived without them. The pain subsided eventually, he stopped having panic attacks every time he saw a dark hood in public or flinching whenever a wand was raised. It happened bit by bit and then all at once. His humour came back, his appearance improved- he felt like himself again.

"The last I heard Millie was courting some socialite in Paris. Tracy's not coming back, she got an internship at Madam Malkins. Daphne spent most of the summer with Th-" She stops abruptly, exchanging an anxious look with Blaise. "Oh, I'm sorry Draco, I wasn't thinking."

"It's fine Pans. You can say his name don't worry- I'm over it, really." He can't stand her sympathetic gaze, she means well but he's not ready to talk about Theo. Not yet.

Blaise caches on and diverts the conversation to safer territory, giving Draco a moment to breathe in relief.

"So did you hear about Marcus Flint and Oliver wood?" 

***

If Harry didn't know any better, he would say that this years feast being based entirely around his favourite foods was just a coincidence. However, he does know better and after seeing twelve enormous treacle tarts on the Gryffindor table alone, as well as all his favourite side dishes, he is growing slightly suspicious.

Upon voicing this particular theory to Ron, the redhead had just shrugged, before saying through mouthfuls of chicken, "Probably mate. You know what the house-elves are like- they all idolise you down there."

Harry felt faintly horrified by the idea that the meals for an entire school are being tailored around his eating habits and made a mental note to visit Winky and ask her to talk them out of it.

Apart from this, Hogwarts felt relatively the same. It had undergone months worth of magical construction over the summer to undo the damage that was caused during the battle. A task Harry has assumed would be simple enough, but Hermione had explained in depth that Hogwarts magical core had been damaged and it would take more than a few mere repairos to bring the castle back its former glory.  
  
  


However they had clearly managed it, the castle seemed to thrum with magic, counteracting the melancholy air brought with the students. It was the shortest shorting ceremony Harry had ever seen, only twelve first years. Most parents opted to send their children abroad, to Illvermorny or Beaubatons instead. The majority were muggle-born, who's parents were unaware of the school's recent history.

After the ceremony, McGonagall had stood up in front of the school and Harry had noticed that her face looked a little more lined and tense than when he'd last seen her, an after effect of the war.

"Welcome back. We as a school have faced challenges no others have, you have seen things no other children should have to see. And yet we are here together today, strong, united and victorious." She took a shaky breath, the slight glint of a tear in her eye.

"But as we all know, victory does not come without losses and each and every one of you has been affected by that. This year we must honour the sacrifices made by those before us and do everything in our power to keep their memory alive. I implore you, this year to support those who need to be supported, ask for help when help is needed and do not fight prejudge with prejudice."

"What was all that about prejudice?" Harry asked over tremulous applause.But before Hermione could answer, McGonagall continued to speak.

"This year, we welcome into our ranks, Professor Sykes who is to be our new of potions teacher following Professor Slughorn's retirement." She gestured to a tall dark-haired man sitting at the end of the teacher's table. He was thin with dark eyes underneath his spectacles and his pointed beard was flecked with silver. He reminded Harrys somewhat of a raven or a magpie.

"And Professor Bellamy who has arrived fresh from Beaubatons to fill our post as defence against the dark arts teacher and head of Slytherin house." A smaller curvy woman with auburn hair and olive skin smiled out at them, giving a little wave. She looked young, mid to late twenties and Harry couldn't help but be surprised that she was already being given such a high ranking job. '

"Oh, I've heard of her! She played for the Hollyhead Harpies before becoming a teacher!" Ginny exclaimed, looking at the new professor starry eyed.

"Blimey," Seamus muttered. "Wonder why someone like her's head of Slytherin."

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes when she was met with blank looks. "They're trying repair Slytherins reputation and they're hoping that by bringing in a pretty new teacher it might help. It's what McGonagall's speech was about. They're worried that students might start attacking the Slytherins."

Ron's eyes widened in understanding whilst Harry twisted in his seat, craning his head towards the Slytherin table instinctively searching for a glimpse of white hair.

It was a movement which Hermione clearly didn't miss, tugging his arm back. "Come on Harry, let's try to have a year free from Malfoy obsession."

Ron nodded in agreement whilst Harry spluttered indignantly. "Obsessed? I'm not obsessed!"

"Whatever you say, mate." Ron sighed, helping himself to a spoonful of peas. "I'm just not looking for a repeat of sixth year."

"You did go a bit mad Harry," Ginny said softly, stealing a potato off his plate.

"Are you forgetting that he was actively trying to kill Dumbledore! I was doing the right thing!" He protested, glowering at all three of them.

"Yes, we know that," Hermione said, using the tone of voice one might save for talking to a toddler or very old person. "But he's not up to anything anymore. So let's just leave it okay?"

Harry just ignored her, instead opting to cut up his chicken with a little more force than necessary. Ginny slid her hand under the table, wrapping their fingers together. It doesn't give him the butterflies it used to, nor does it bring him any warmth. Instead, a prickle of irritation ran down his spine. That had been happening a lot lately. He loved Ginny, he really did. She's perfect for him, everyone said so. She was gorgeous and funny and loving her was easy. And easy is all Harry needed at the moment. Molly's had already begun dropping engagement hints at every opportunity she got. 

After the feast, McGonagall led all of the eighth years up past the seventh floor and the astronomy tower, stopping outside of a large mirror the size of a doorway that Harry had never seen before.

"This is the entrance to your common room," McGonagall announced. "All you have to do is stand in front of it and it will recognise you as eighth years and let you in."

A hand shot up and McGonagall nodded at it.

"Are younger students allowed in?" The question came from Susan Bones who Harry knew had a sister in the fifth year.

"As long as they're accompanied by one of you, " McGonagall answered and Ron elbowed him excitedly, obviously thinking about Ginny.

One by one they entered, standing in front of the mirror which would turn milky at their reflection before swinging open to allow them access.

The common room itself was immense. Huge with a large circle of sofa's in the centre of the room, surrounding a fireplace which came up from the ceiling. There were four large tapestries coming down from the wall, one for each of the house, and the floor was covered in sheepskin and Persian rugs.

McGonagall gathered them around a noticeboard attached to one of the walls, cutting off the chatter with a commanding voice.

"Behind me are the room lists. If you have any complaints please take it up with me personally. As all of you are of age, you will be granted certain privileges which I expect you not to abuse."

"What kind of privileges miss?" Micheal Corner asked, shrinking under her stern gaze.

"You will be permitted to visit Hogsmead at any time, instead of being limited to certain weekends. On top of this, you will also be able to make floor calls on the weekend, on the condition that at least member of staff is aware of where you are."

"Wicked." Ron breathed in Harry's ear.

She moved away from the board and they all surged forward, desperate to get a look at who they would be forced to share a room with for the rest of the year. Harry found himself being pushed to the front, where he spotted his name easily.

_Terry Boot_

_Anthony Goldstein_

_Harry Potter_

_Blaise Zabini_

_Draco Malfoy_

Oh. Oh no. Fuck.

He's sharing with Malfoy.

"You've got to be joking!" Ron groaned next to him and Harry saw that Ron was sharing with Dean Thomas, Theodore Nott, Ernie Macmillan and Micheal Corner.

"At least you've got Dean!" Harry protested. "I'll probably be hexed in my sleep!"

"Sorry, mate," Ron said sympathetically, resting his hand on Harry's shoulder. "We can go to McGonagall tomorrow...who have you got Mione?" He turned to where Hermione was looking very pale.

"Oh, merlin." She breathed. "I'm with Pansy."

"Well, there's certainly no need to sound so disappointed Granger." They whirled around to where Pansy Parkison was stood, eyes glittering mischievously. "I'm sure we'll have a wail of a time."

"Piss off Parkinson," Ron growled and she raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him.

"Charming as ever I see Weasley. Oh, how I've missed our little chats!"

He rolled his eyes. "Come on let's dump our things before the rest of them get here."  
  


Harry was relieved to find his room empty when he arrived. It was fairly large, with five just five beds and to his delight, the ceiling had been enchanted to show the night sky, much like in the great hall. He chose the bed nearest to the window, showcasing a spectacular view over the grounds.

After Ron had also unpacked, they headed back down to the common room where Hermione was curled up in an armchair, pouring over her battered copy of Spellman's Syllabary.

"It's nice isn't it?" She said as they sat down next to her. "Does yours also have the ceiling?"

"Yeah." Harry agreed at the same time Ron nodded.

"Pavarti thinks it's a way of helping anxiety. Most people find it calming."

Unfortunately, Harry didn't hear any more as that was the moment that the common room door opened and he promptly forgot how to breathe.

Draco Malfoy had sauntered in, flanked by Zabini and Parkinson who were looking like guard dogs, primed to attack anyone who dared to look his way.

Malfoy looked _good_. His hair fell in white blonde curtains around his face which suddenly looked more aristocratic than pointy. Somehow, he still managed to project that causal self-assured cockiness which got under Harry's skin so well. It was utterly infuriating. Of course, Malfoy would turn up looking like he'd just stepped off the pages of witch weekly despite being a social pariah and spending months in Azkaban.

Typical.

Malfoy barely spared him a glance, before sinking onto the sofa where the rest of the Slytherins were gathered. Harry followed his gaze to where Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass were draped over each other in a nauseating fashion. Something seemed to flicker in his eyes, something no one else would notice, but Harry- who had years of Malfoy watching under his belt- immediately recognised it as irritation.

It was peculiar, the only thing Harry could think to justify it was that Malfoy liked Greengrass- but he'd been so sure that he was dating Parkinson. Whatever it was, he was desperate to find out. 

A little while later, Harry bid Ron and Hermione goodnight before heading up to bed. Terry and Anthony were sitting together on the other side of the room, heads bent together in a whispered conversation. Malfoy was splayed out on a bed near Harry's with Zabini. He broke off whatever he was saying when he saw Harry walk into the room, his expression changing into one of blank indifference. Zabini on the other hand broke into a shit-eating grin.

"Ah Potter! Fancy a game of chess? Cards?" He shot Harry a wink, "Drinking game? God knows Draco has enough fire whiskey in his trunk to last a lifetime."

Harry had no idea to say, his throat felt like it had closed up. The whole situation was bizarre and he wondered for a second if he'd accidentally walked into an alternative reality. He'd never said more than five words to Zabini before this point but now the boy was acting although they were lifelong friends.

However, he was saved from having to answer as Malfoy's cool voice cut through the air, inexplicably sending a shiver down his spine.

"Do shut up Blaise." He still refused to meet Harry's eyes. "You'll scare the saviour."

"Oh fuck off Malfoy." He spat, but to his immense annoyance, the other boy didn't take the bait, instead, he just rolled his eyes and carried on his conversation with Zabini as though Harry wasn't even in the room.

He turned away, grabbing his least embarrassing pyjamas out of his trunk and stalked towards the bathroom to change. There was no chance he was going to strip down in front of the Slytherins.

He inspected his body briefly in the mirror, he was in better shape than he'd ever been before and his skin was vaguely tanned from the long days he would spend sitting outside of the burrow with Ron when the grief in the house got too claustrophobic.

Once he'd changed into a pair of jogging bottoms and a chudley cannons t-shirt he'd nicked off Charlie, he went back into the dorm. The room was dark and the others were already in bed. The curtains were drawn tightly shut around the bed next to Zabini's which Harry assumed was Malfoy's. Zabini gave him a cheeky salute before closing his own curtains.

Harry eventually fell into uneasy sleep filled with quidditch, fire and dragons.


	2. chapter two

Draco had always been good at potions. Perhaps it was natural talent or the way Severus had been training him since he could carry a cauldron, but he'd always had an affinity to the subject. The only person who'd ever even gotten close to rivalling his grades was Granger. Perhaps that was why Skyes had thought it would be prudent to pair the two of them up.

"I'll be fine Ron!" He heard Granger hiss from the other side of the classroom and he repressed the desire to roll his eyes. If anyone was in danger, it was him- his nose still hadn't recovered from it's meeting with the girls fist.

"Granger." He greeted stiffly as she approached, all too aware of the green eyes next to Weasley boring into him. Granger had also noticed the staring and gave both boys a glare which could strike fear into even Voldemort's cold dead heart. Potter flushed and looked away, whereas Weasley just shot him a warning look, as though daring him to start anything.

"Now that your friends have established that I'm not about to hex you, can we continue?" He asked her, busying himself with setting out the ingredients for dreamless sleep so as to avoid looking at her face.

"Can you blame them?" She raised an eyebrow and he swallowed heavily, hating the trickle of shame which filled him at her words.

There were a couple of silent, tension filled minutes whilst he separated the valerian sprigs before she spoke again.

"You've brewed this before then?" She asked, noticing the way he was concocting it with ease.

"You could say so." He replied and was beyond grateful when she didn't ask him to elaborate. He'd learnt how to brew it in the sixth year when the nightmares had gotten too intense. Living in the same house as Voldemort tended to do that to a person.

"Excellently made." Professor Sykes told them as he inspected their potion. "I dare say you could sell this to St Mungos. Five points for both of you."

Granger went pink with the praise and Draco couldn't help but feel a slight swell of pride inside of him at the teachers words. Before the war, he'd wanted to play quidditch professionally but now no team would ever allow an ex death eater. Now, his best option was to get a potions mastery and hope someone would take him on as an apprentice.

As soon as the bell rung, he grabbed his bag and hurried towards the common room. It was an unspoken agreement between all of the Slytherins that they were to avoid the great hall as much as possible during the day.

He flung himself down between Millie and Pansy, subtly avoiding eye contact with Theo.

Theo who'd fucked him all the way through last year.

Theo who'd told him he loved him.

The same Theo who now had his hand halfway up Daphne Greengrasses skirt.

He wished it didn't hurt as much as it did. He'd never been in love with Theo, he was more of a glorious distraction when things were bad, but seeing him with the leggy blonde felt like a betrayal. Pansy had once pointed out that Daphne was basically Draco in girl form, just with tits and minus the personality.

"How was potions, my love?" Pansy asked, tucking a loose hair behind Draco's chin. It was one of the only lessons they didn't have together and she'd been worrying about him being the only Slytherin in it.

He sighed heavily. "It was fine I suppose. Absolutely ridden with Gryffindors, I feel sure they're multiplying." Theo laughed at this and he tried not to flinch at the sound. "I've been paired with Granger so naturally Weasel is out for blood."

Blaise chuckled. "It's a shame we're not rallying against them this year. I feel a second verse of Weasley is our king just bursting out of me." 

As if one cue, the common room door opened and the golden trio walked in, completely unnerved by the way the Slytherins bust into hysteria at their entrance.

"What?" Weasley barked. "What's so funny?" This only increased their laughed, to the point where Pansy was clinging onto his shirt for support and Draco had tears in his eyes.

"Leave it Ron." Potter said, tugging on the other boys arm. "It's probably just some fucked up joke."

"Yeah they're probably looking at pictures of first years being tortured or something." Weasley spat, and the atmosphere changed in a heartbeat. The room suddenly felt very cold and he felt Pansy stiffen by his side.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Millies voice was like ice and Draco remembered with a jolt that she had lost her little brother in the war.

"You heard me." Weasley growled back as she stood up, fists clenched.

"Ron shut up." Weasley turned to face Granger who had gone very pale.

"But Mione..." It came out as whine, that in any other situation, Draco would have laughed at him about. "Whatever."

He turned away and stormed out of the room, closely flowed by the other two, Potter glancing once in Draco'd direction before he left.

***

The moment they were out of the room, Hermione turned on Ron. "What in merlins name was that?"

Ron crossed his arms moodily, "They were being prats."

"What? By laughing?" She exclaimed, looking exasperated and Harry was beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable being in the middle of a lovers tiff.

Ron faltered a little at this but only for a second. "Well...well Bulstrode didn't need to get her knickers in a twist about it!"

Hermione flung her arms up, looking even more enraged. "Of course she was going to! Her brother died in the battle! He was a first year!"<

Ron paled and looked at the floor bashfully. "Well I didn't know that did I?"

"I think I remember hearing about that." Harry said slowly, recalling a particular potter watch broadcast. "His name was Matthew or something, wasn't it?" Her looked at Hermione to confirm.

"Yeah that's right. Matthew Bulstrode. I heard Pansy talking to Millicent about it last night. I'm not entirely sure what happened but I have an awful suspicion it might have been Greyback."

Harry shuddered slightly, memories of the feral werewolf still fresh in his mind.

Ron opened his mouth to speak but before he could do so, a small boy came jogging up to them, panting heavily.

"Harry Potter?" He squeaked, staring at Harry slightly awestruck."I'm Toby Creswell."

Harry shifted awkwardly, "Um, hi Toby?" Jordan didn't say anything, just carried on gazing at Harry. "You okay?"

Toby jumped and flushed red. "Sorry Sir! Professor McGonagall sent me to find you. She wants you to come to her office."

Harry shot Ron a glare as he mouthed sir? over the boys head and nodded. "Right, thanks Toby." The small boy gave a slight squeal at being thanked and sprinted away and he turned to the 

"I dunno mate, the poor lad was basically shitting himself with joy." Ron chortled. "Looks like you've got another admirer. I'll be sure to tell Ginny she's got some competition."

Harry shot him a scathing look and turned to Hermione instead who looked curious. "I'm not sure Harry, perhaps she wants you to give a speech or something."

Harry shuddered at the prospect."God, I hope not. Hey, I'll ask if I can switch rooms as well."

Ron clapped him on back, "Good idea. We'll see you back at the common room, yeah?"

They parted ways and Harry made his way up to the gargoyle statues standing sentinel outside of Dumbledores old office. The room looked practically identical as before, except for a few minor changes. Fawkes perch remained empty and the bowls which had previously contained lemon drops or liquorice wands were gone. The most noticeable change was McGonagall sitting in Dumbledore's old chair, head bent over a piece of parchment.

"Harry, my dear boy." He jumped at the sound, turning to the massive painting of Dumbledore who was smiling jovially at him. He could feel a lump forming in his throat and blinked back the unwelcome tears now prickling in his corner of his eyes at the sight of his old headteacher.

"Professor." He managed to croak in reply and McGonagall looked up at him, only now noticing his presence.

"Mr Potter, I see Creswell managed to track you down. Please, take a seat."

"Yes professor, he was very...enthusiastic." Harry replied, sliding onto the seat opposite her.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and he chuckled. "Hufflepuff if I remember correctly? He's the one who tripped over his own feet during the sorting ceremony."

"Of course you'd remember that Albus." She scolded him slightly, but Harry didn't miss the fondness in her voice.

"You know me Minerva, also one for the underdogs." He winked at Harry who was vaguely insulted at being considered an underdog.

"Please tell me this isn't about a speech." He blurted as McGonagall inspected him over her classes in a manner which never failed to make him uncomfortable.

"A speech? No but I'm sure that can be arranged if you wish."

"No, no!" He blustered. "Sorry, Hermione put it into my head and I just had to check. If you don't mind me asking, what exactly is this about?"

She folded her hands on the desk authoritatively. "I'll get straight to it. I've recently been in contact with the Minister regarding your plans for when you leave school. They've already offered you various jobs at the Ministry haven't they?"

"They did but I didn't think much of them to be honest." He didn't bother disguising his frown and she looked rather amused.

"I thought as much. Well as it happens they've got much larger plans for you now."

"I bet they have." He growled, feeling more and more apprehensive.

She smiled sympathetically. "Chin up Potter, it's nothing too awful. They simply want you to be trained further in Legillimency."

"No! Snape already tried! I'm not going through that again!" He protested, horrified at the prospect of having his mind being rummaged through again.

"Professor Snape," She said, heavily emphasising professor, "was attempting to teach you Oclomency, a different vocation entirely- and we both know that his methods were...a little unorthodox."

"You can say that again." Harry mumbled, slumping back in his chair. "Why do they need me to learn it anyway?"

"I believe they're worried about you being taken advantage of. Being a legillimens would allow you to uncover the true motives behind certain individuals action. I really must agree with them, it's a wonderful tool."

Harry had the feeling that he was on the losing side of this particular battle and sighed heavily. "Fine. But who would teach me anyway?"

"I have a certain student in mind who is incredibly accomplished in Legillmency. They're significantly more talented in that field than any Ministry official."

"Who is it?"

"I shall have to confirm that they're willing to teach you first. I trust you're agreeing then?"

He crossed his arms. "I don't have much choice in the matter do I?" She gave him a small nod and he relented. "I'll try a few sessions but if it doesn't work then that is the ministry's problem, not mine.

"Excellent. I'll make sure Mr Creswell keeps you updated."

Just before he was about to leave, a sudden thought struck him. "Oh professor?"

"Yes Potter?"

"I'd like to move rooms." He declared brazenly.

"And why would that be?" She said, looking back at the parchment.

He knew full well that if he disclosed his true motivations behind the switch -Malfoy- McGonagall would simply roll her eyes and roll off some speech about the past being in the past.

"Ron suffers from sleepwalking," He blurted out the first thing which came to mind. "He needs me to make sure he doesn't wander off during the night." He regretted it the moment it came out of his mouth, especially when McGonagall exchanged an annoyingly knowing look with Dumbledore's portrait.

"I'm sure the only sleepwalking Mr Weasley will be doing this year will be to Miss Grangers room, and as for you Potter- well I trust you and Mr Malfoy will be able to put your differences aside for the remainder of the year. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."


	3. chapter three

Harry developed a certain routine over the next few weeks. He would wake early, determined to spend as little time around his new roommates as possible and meet Ron and Hermione in great hall for breakfast. They had discovered that by eating early, they would manage to dodge the crowds of younger students who like ambush them right when they were least expecting it. The novelty of going to school with _the Harry Potter_ was slowly beginning to die down but every so often, some kid would pluck up the courage to ask them a question about the war and then in minutes, they would be surrounded by the rest of them, all pushing and shoving each other for a chance to catch the golden trio’s- _as they had been so nicknamed by Rita Skeeter_ \- attention.

He had quickly learnt that Professor Bellamy was an excellent defence teacher. She was young enough that the students respected her but still managed to maintain an air of dignity. She was fiercely protective of the Slytherins and he had seen her on more than one occasion subtly hex Marcus Cattermole whenever he tripped up a Slytherin first year. She would often call Harry up to the front of the class and ask him to demonstrate certain spells and whenever she was called away in the middle of a lesson, he would always be asked to keep an eye on them.

Seamus and Dean took great pleasure in teasing him about the teachers blatant display of favouritism but Harry was secretly suspicious that she was trying to train him up as the next defence teacher. He’d be lying if he said the idea wasn’t tempting, he’d forgotten the way it felt to teach, to see when someone finally managed the spell they’d be struggling with or the adrenaline which flowed through him during a duel. Maybe he was missing the DA more than he had realised.

After lessons, he would steal away with Ginny to a shadowy part of the castle that nobody visited anymore or an empty classroom. Those moments were brief, filled with heavy breathing and frantic kisses as they clung to each other, desperately trying to bring back the spark which the war had blown out.

Evenings were spent with Ron and Hermione, curled up by the common room fire doing homework or sipping on butterbeer at the three broomsticks, only retreating back to his dormitory when he knew for certain that everyone else would be asleep. 

Harry had been in the library when he’d received another letter from McGonagall, informing him that his first Legilimency lesson would be later that evening in an empty charms classroom. Upon hearing this, Hermione had switched to full out research mode, scouring the shelves for any books vaguely relating to the subject.

“It’s absolutely fascinating!” She told Ron and Harry earnestly, slamming _Protection Charm Your Mind: A Practical Guide To Counter Legilimency_ down on the table next to them. “It’s an incredibly accomplished skill, I can’t believe you’re being trained in it. ”

She looked a little wistful and Harry felt a slight prickle of guilt, “I could always try and teach it to you afterwards, if you wanted.”

“It wouldn’t work Harry. I mean, almost everyone can be taught basic Occlumency but Legilimency is far more complex and it’s rare for someone to be able to master it. They probably think you could can handle it because of the link between you and Voldemort.” She explained.

Ron looked rather pale. “Blimey, will be able to read our minds now?”

He shook his head, and Ron gave a little sigh of relief. “Only if I really wanted to, and trust me, I have no desires to explore your weird fantasies.”

Ron blushed and preoccupied himself with scanning around the library. “Oh, Parkison’s over there, I think she’s looking for you Mione.”

Hermione’s tentative new friendship with the Slytherins had surprised them all. It had begun with forced politeness but quickly moved into the realms of small talk and smiles when they bumped into each other in the corridor. Parkison seemed to have bonded with her over also being the only girl in a group of boys and now it wasn’t uncommon to see the two chatting amicably together or gossiping in a corner.

Ron had remained unusually tight-lipped over this new development and Harry and a slight suspicion that Hermione may have given him a lecture on how she was perfectly capable of making her own friends.

She waved Parkison over and the black-haired girl approached their table, giving the boys short nods in greeting.

“Hi Pans.” Hermione smiled, pulling out an empty seat for her to sit on. “Everything alright?”

“Oh just peachy.” Parkison replied breezily. “I just thought I would warn you against going back to our room anytime soon. Hannah and Longbottom were looking pretty cosy and I dread to think what you might walk in on.”

“Bloody hell it’s about time.” Ron said, momentarily forgetting his animosity towards Parkinson. “Those two have been dancing around each other for ages.”

“I know.” She agreed animatedly. “I thought I was going to have to lock them in a cupboard if I saw them making those doe eyes at each other one more time. “

Harry snorted and she sent him a coy smile. “Potter. How’s being the saviour of the wizarding world treating you??”

Before he could respond, Zabini strolled up to their table, wrapping an arm around Parkison. “Hello, Pans, consorting with Gryffindors are we?”

Ron rolled his eyes and muttered something about _stupid Slytherins_ under his breath whilst Pansy shot him a wry smile. “Darling, how wonderful, McGonagall would pass out with joy if she saw this display of inter-house unity.” Her eyes narrowed at Zabini slightly. “Although we seem to be missing someone. Please tell me Draco’s not being cornered by Smith again.”

Harry’s stomach flipped, but before he could ask exactly what _being cornered by Smith meant,_ Zabini swore loudly. “Fuck, I left him with Theo and Daph.”

Parkinson groaned and smacked him softly over the head. “Idiot. We’d better go before one of them gets transfigured into a teapot.” She’d begun to walk away before turning to Harry, her expression soft.

“Potter, I really am sorry about all the turning you over to you-know-who business. If it’s any consolation, I wouldn’t do it again.” And then they were gone, leaving the three Gryffindors to stare after them in utter confusion.

“What the fuck was that all about?”

Later on, whilst making his way up to the charms classroom, Harry replayed the conversation with the Slytherin’s in his head, unsure of what to make of it. He’d never been fond of either of them, Parkison had never missed an opportunity to harass them and being so close to Malfoy, he’d hadn’t ever taken to time to have a conversation with Zabini. 

He was an odd one, Harry had never been quite able to work him out. He had assumed that Malfoy would only befriend those whose families were avid supporters of Voldemort but Zabini’s family had remained neutral during the war and the handsome dark-skinned boy was rarely seen away from Malfoy’s side.

And then there had been the added anomaly of Parkison's apology. She struck him as the type of girl who rarely admitted fault, but there had been something almost vulnerable when she spoke to him. He’d always be taught that acknowledging when you were wrong only made you stronger, but Parkison had looked wary, as though she was expressing some great weakness. A chink in her armour.

She’d mentioned something about Malfoy, Greengrass and Nott as well, hadn’t she? It only strengthened Harry’s theory that there was tension between the three of them and he subconsciously filed that fact away in his mind, to ponder at a later time. 

The charms classroom was empty, clearly, he was the first to arrive. It was relatively large, with two armchairs which someone had obviously transfigured for them. He’d read that when started Legilimency, it was important to be as comfortable as possible, well at ease as anyone could be whilst having someone rooting around in their mind.

Harry settled in one them, picking at a loose thread in his tie as an effort to calm his bubbling nerves. He only had to wait a few minutes before the door of the classroom opened and he straightened, expecting to see some portly ministry official or one of the unspeakable’s he had encounter over the summer.

However, what he was not expecting to see, was Draco Malfoy strolling in, glancing around the classroom with a critical eye.

“What are you doing here?” Harry growled, fingers tensing around the sides of the chair.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought that would be obvious Potter.”

“Obviously not.” He groaned this was the last thing he needed to be dealing with right now. “Look, can you bugger off? I’m waiting for someone.” 

Malfoy smirked at him and his insides tightened, what did he know that Harry didn’t?

“I believe you’re waiting for me. I’m the one who’s been given the arduous task of teaching you Legilimency.”

Ah. That was it.

“Why _you_?” Harry asked, horrified. There was no chance he wanted _Draco sodding Malfoy_ of all people inside his head,

Malfoy sat down in the chair opposite him casually, as though this was all perfectly normal. “McGonagall asked me to. I couldn’t say no, they’d probably find a way to twist it into me breaking the terms of my probation.”

“How do you even know Legilimency?” He questioned him suspiciously, and for the first time, Malfoy looked slightly rattled.

There was a beat of silence as the other boy seemed to be floundering for the right words. “When Voldemort lives in your house for a year,” He said slowly, and Harry was surprised to hear the use of his real name, as opposed to You-Know-Who. “You tend to want to keep certain things private, certain things he might choose to _exploit_. Auntie Bella taught me, heavens knows why. Mother probably blackmail her into it.”

The confession hung in the air for a couple of seconds, heavy and poignant before Harry spoke again. “Look Malfoy, no offence but you’re probably the last person I’d want to do this with, I don’t fancy laying myself bare in front of you." There was a slight pink flush to Malfoys cheeks, and he realised a moment too late how that may have sounded like an innuendo. “I just mean, it’s supposed to be pretty personal.” He said desperately, the room suddenly feeling too hot.

“Trust me, Potter. It’ll be worse for me than it is for you. You’ll be practising in my head after all.” Malfoy assured him, and he couldn’t help but feel a slight bolt of curiosity at the idea of seeing some of the things Malfoy might keep hidden. “I suggest that we both make a vow, so we can’t tell anyone else anything that we may see in the other's mind to someone else.”

“What like an unbreakable vow?”

“Salazar _no._ I knew Gryffindors weren’t very bright but you really take the cake.” Harry bristled in annoyance and Malfoy rolled his eyes. “There are multiple different variations of vows. We could try a simple tongue-tying one or speak me-not.”

“Alright.” He sighed, only feeling slightly mollified. “We can try that, but don’t think I won’t obliviate you if you see something I don’t want you to.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes again and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that it was becoming a habit. “Yes, yes, okay. Now give me your arm.”

“Excuse me?” He squeaked.

“Your _arm_ Potter.” Malfoy said, looking as though he was trying very hard not to hit him. “For the vow.”

“Oh yes, right, of course. The _vow._ ” Harry unceremoniously thrust his arm towards Malfoy who eyed it with a look a distain.

Malfoy took it firmly, holding him by the forearm and Harry did the same, trying desperately to ignore the tingles which exploded in his arm when he did, like a thousand tiny electric shocks. It was utterly bizarre and he couldn’t help but wonder if Malfoy could see it too. He chanced a look up at the blonde boy, who seemed to be determinedly ignoring him but the tips of his ears had gone very red.

With his other hand, Malfoy took out his wand and muttered something low in latin under his breath. A silvery-white thread moved from the tip of the wand and down to their clasped arms, wrapping itself around them, binding the two together.

“Do you, Harry Potter, swear on the very binding's of your magic not to divulge any memories or emotions that you may encounter in Draco Malfoy’s during these lessons?” Malfoy said in a low voice, bringing Harry out of the trance-like state he had been whilst watching the vow form. “ _Now’s normally the part where you say I do and then repeat it back to me._ ”He hissed at him.

“Oh erm right.” Harry gulped. “I do. And do you, Draco Malfoy, swear not to divulge any memories or emotions that you may encounter in Harry Potter’s mind during these lessons?”

“I do.” The thread glowed brightly for a second, before disappearing once again. They stayed together for a moment before pulling their arms away at the same time, looking slightly sheepish.

“That was mental.” Harry observed. “I won’t lose my magic if I break that, will I?”

“No. I used the tongue-tying one so you won’t be able to break it all, your worlds will get all jumbled up if you try.” Malfoy said, sitting across the chair with his legs hanging off the side. “Alright Potter, same time next week?”

“What, that’s it?”

“The vow usually takes a few days to settle.” He explained, standing up and smirking at Harry. “Unless you’d like to spend more time in my charming company?”

The way he said it was almost teasing, lacking in his usual venom. He’d only ever heard Malfoy talk that way to his friends, so to have it directed at him made Harry feel slightly off-kilter.

“Oh yes, however, will I manage without you?” He said back, testing the waters.

“With great difficulty I presume.” Malfoy's smile turned wicked. “It’s a good thing you’ve got- what was it the judges said at the Triwizard tournament again?”

“Strong moral fibre.” He supplied grudgingly and Malfoy let out a noise of amusement.

“That sound’s about right.” He checked the expensive-looking watch on his wrist. “I’d better go, next week I thought we could start testing your Oclomency shields. I know Severus taught you the basics.”

He didn’t wait for him to respond, instead, he raised his hand in a strange sort of wave goodbye and left Harry alone in the classroom, digesting what had just happened. He had just had a normal conversation with _Draco Malfoy_ without one of them being hexed- in fact, it was more than that, they had even joked around with each other. Hell, he didn’t think Malfoy had a sense of humour until before now. Ron’s brain would explode when he told him.


	4. chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: slight use of homophobic slurs and bullying

“Oi! Death Eater!”

Draco sped up, willing his feet to move faster- to outrun them. His fingers curved instinctively around his wand, it would be so easy to turn around and jinx that smirk off Zacharius Smith’s stupid face. But his mother's voice reverberated in his head, begging him not to give the Ministry more ammunition. To them it wouldn’t be self-defence, it would be the last stop on the road back to Azkaban.

“Don’t ignore me when I’m talking to you Malfoy! _Incarcerous!_ ”

The spell hit him before he had time to react, thick rope bound his wrists and pinned him to the wall, leaving him utterly defenceless as his attackers surrounded him. He’d been getting used to small hexes hitting him in the corridors or whispered insults as he walked past, but this was the first time he’d found himself completely vulnerable. He was an idiot really, to think that Blaise and Pansy could protect him forever. This was just a tiny taste of what was waiting for him when he left Hogwarts. Maybe he’d go to Iceland or Russia, somewhere no one even knew Voldemort’s name. Somewhere he could be invisible.

Smith loomed closer, smirking at him. _Play it cool Draco, play it cool._

“Aren’t you that kid who trailed around after me all of sixth year?” He drawled, with as much dignity one can muster when pinned to a wall. “Like a little puppy?”

Smith’s face went red with annoyance and embarrassment for a second before twisting cruelly. “You’d probably like that, wouldn’t you? I heard you take it up the arse.”

His cronies laughed like this was the wittiest thing they’d ever heard and fought the urge to retort that _he wouldn’t go near Smith with a ten-foot pole let alone touch his tiny excuse of a cock if Pansy’s approximations were anything to go by._

Smith obviously took his silence to mean that he’d struck a nerve. “I wonder what Daddy would think if he knew his son was a shirt lifter? Maybe he already knows. I bet you’ve sucked off half the guards in Azkaban.”

Draco’s blood went cold, his heart hammering with panic and bile began to rise in his throat. He was trapped again, trapped like a canary in a coal mine or a sparrow in a vanishing cabinet.

“Stop playing around Zach, let me have a little chat with him.” Growled a brutish looking boy and Smith stepped back, letting the boy push his face close to Draco’s, pushing him even further against the wall.

_Letmegoletmegoletmegoletmego._

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He was so close that he could smell the boy’s sweat, hear his heavy breathing. “Walking around like you own the place, fooling all the teachers that you’ve changed? Well, you don’t fool me Malfoy, you don’t fool me one bit. I see you for what you are. You’re nothing but _scum_.”

_Yes I am yes I am just please let me go letmegoletmegoletmegoletmego._

“Cowardly, vile scum. They should have given you the kiss, no one would miss you, not even your whore of a mother.”

I _know I know I know letmegoletmegoletmegoletmego._

“What’s going on here?” It was a new voice, angry and authoritative.

“Shit! It’s Sykes! You better let him go now.” A ginger girl hissed at the boy.

He ignored her, instead leaning down to whisper in Draco’s ear. “You better look out scum, because when no one’s watching, I’m going to rip you to fucking shreds.”

And then they were gone and Draco’s wrists were free.

“Are you alright? What happened- _Malfoy_! Come back!’

Draco ignored the potions teacher, barreling past him and down the corridor. He had to go _now._ He didn’t speak to anyone, didn’t let himself stop until he reached the nearest bathroom.

And it was only there when he was hidden safely away in a stall, did he finally allow himself to break down.

Hogsmead, Harry was pleased to see, had managed to build itself back up over the summer. It looked every bit the chocolate box village he was used to. The Three Broomsticks was bustling with students, teachers, warlocks and parents who’d come down for the weekend to check on their children. Honeydukes was in more demand than ever, with a long line pouring out the door and halfway down the street, even the Hogshead looked busier than usual.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny tucked themselves into a booth at The Three Broomsticks, laden down with all of the complimentary Butterbeer and Firewhiskey being bought for them by the other customers. It wasn’t long before they were joined by Seamus, Dean, Neville, Hannah and Luna, who were more than happy help out.

Harry soon began to feel the effects of the fire whiskey, everything felt a little lighter and there was a strange sort of haze filling his brain.

“Look who just came in!” Dean whispered loudly, nodding towards the door where three people stood together.

Upon closer inspection, he realised it was Parkison, Zabini and Malfoy. Malfoy’s face was flushed from the cold and he was wearing a grey woollen hat which pushed his blonde hair down. If Harry didn’t know who he was, he’d think that the boy looked almost innocent. He shook his head, as though trying to rid his mind of these thoughts. He blamed the alcohol for making him think about things he really didn’t want to think about.

“Should we…you know…invite them over?” Hermione asked softly, looking around the table to gauge the reactions of the others.

“Sure!” Ron slurred slightly. “The more the merrier, even if it is the ferret!”

“Oi! You lot!” Seamus yelled at them, and the three Slytherins flinched, clearly expecting a fight.

“Yes?” Parkison’s voice was steel and he couldn’t help but notice the way her body shielded Malfoy’s protectively.

“Come over and have a drink with us!” Seamus waved them over, “Bury the hatchet and all that.”

They looked at each other, as though trying to determine if this was some ploy or trick.

“Alright then,” Zabini said, deciding to risk it. “We’ll buy you all a pint.”

“Oh there’s no need for that, we have more than enough.” Hannah giggled a little tipsily.

They pulled up chairs and Harry found himself almost directly opposite Malfoy.

“We were just discussing our plans for after school.” Luna dressed them with a strange sort of familiarity, and Harry realised that this wasn’t her first conversation with the trio, if the fond look in Malfoy’s eye was anything to go by. “What are you lot thinking of doing?”

“I want to study Law,” Parkison told them boldly. “I think we can all agree that the wizengamot is in desperate need of updating. And Blaise here may or may not have already been approached by a certain branch of the Ministry, but he can’t say more than that.”

“Oh!” Hermione gasped. “The unspeakables!”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that.” He told her, but there was a telling glint in his eye. “I wouldn’t be surprised to see you running for Minister in the next couple of years Granger.”

Hermione went pink. “Well yes, that’s the plan hopefully. Ron and I are thinking of renting a flat in London so we’ll be closer.”

“What about you Malfoy?” Harry asked impulsively, aware of how the boy hadn’t spoken since they arrived.

Malfoy jumped in surprise but redeemed himself quickly. “I haven’t decided quite yet. I think I might travel, explore other cultures. I have relatives in France and it might be nice to meet at least one side of the family who isn’t completely deranged yet.” Harry let out a snort at the admission and Malfoy addressed him directly. “I suspect you’ll be in Auror training as soon as possible?”

“Um yeah probably. I’ve got Grimmauld place waiting for me so I won’t have to worry about houses.”

Malfoy nodded slowly. “That’s great Aunt Walburga's house, isn’t it? I think I visited as a child. Is that appalling display of elf heads still there?”

“I think it’s sealed itself to the wall, won’t come off no matter what spell I try,” Harry confessed.

Dean laughed, “You can destroy You-Know-Who but can’t get a couple of elf heads off of a wall? Honestly Harry, make sure McGonagall never finds that one out.”

“Oh shut up you prick.” He muttered. “What are your plans anyway?”

Dean weaved an arm around Seamus’s shoulders. “Seamus’s aunt left him a flat in Bristol which we’re going to move into together. It’s proper nice, floo service and everything.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you two were…together,” Malfoy said, indicating between the two of them.

Seamus pushed his chin up, voice challenging. “Why? Got a problem with that?”

Malfoy simply raised an eyebrow and took another sip of his drink. Finnigan, I’m a lot of things but a hypocrite isn’t one of them.”

Harry didn’t have a clue what that meant but Seamus seemed to understand perfectly, letting out a shout of amusement and clapping the blonde on the back.

“Welcome to the dark side my friend, it all makes sense now.”

“What are they talking about?” Harry whispered to Ginny, but she just shook her head and Hermione whispered something which sounded awfully like _oblivious_ under her breath.


	5. chapter five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: violence and flashbacks on child abuse

“For _fucks_ sake, Potter!” Malfoy hissed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “ _Focus_!”

“I am _focusing_ Malfoy! I’ve been focusing this whole bloody time!” Harry bit back furiously, the frustration that had been slowly building inside of him for the past hour finally reaching breaking point. “Did you ever think that maybe it’s your fault not mine?”

It was their third session and Harry was no closer at getting into Malfoy’s mind than he had been to start with. In a desperate effort to make it work, Malfoy had suggested that they changed tactics and that he should try to use Legillimency on Harry instead, so the boy would experience the sensation and how it was _supposed_ to feel.

However, this new method was to no avail. Each time the blonde tried to delve into Harry’s mind, his instincts kicked in and it was as if his brain built up a brick wall, violently pushing Malfoy out.

“Don’t be preposterous, Potter.” Malfoy said flippantly, as though the very idea was so far fetched that Harry should have his head checked just for suggesting such a thing. “No, no this is all you. You just need to clear your mind and stop worrying about what I might see.”

The phrase _clear your mind_ sent Harry flashbacks of his disastrous lessons with Snape and he failed to suppress a shudder. Malfoy noticed and clearly misinterpreted the movement, associating it with his previous words.

“Look, I understand alright?” His voice was softer than Harry had ever heard it before, soft in a way he never thought possible with Malfoy. “Loathsome as I am to admit it, I was the same way at the beginning. I had bloody _Bellatrix_ of all people teaching me and I didn’t fancy sharing any of my thoughts with that maniac. Before the sessions, I would make a list of all the topics I wanted to keep off limits and visualise that I was locking them away in a box. Then I’d chose a random, harmless memory to focus on instead, something trivial or boring usually that she wouldn’t take interest in.”

“I’ve tried that.” Harry admitted. “But every time I know I’m not supposed to think about something, it’s all I can think about.”

“Why don’t we come up with a safe word? That way, if it gets too deep, you can say the safe word and cover up the thought or memory with something else.”

Harry nodded slowly at the suggestion, testing out the idea in his head. “Yeah alright. That could work actually.”

Malfoy let out a sigh of relief at the prospect of finally getting somewhere. “Thank Merlin for that. You should choose the word, you’ll be more likely to remember it if it’s personal to you.”

“What about…” Harry’s brain went blank for a second before something popped into his head and he grinned. “…Ferret has a nice ring too it don’t you think?”

Malfoy was not amused.

“I’ll have you know that was a deeply traumatic experience, Potter! To think that absolute psychopath was ever hired! Transfiguring students into rodents left and right! Honestly Dumbledore seemed to have some kind of fetish for hiring teachers who- _would you stop laughing?”_

In the end and after much careful deliberation, they decided on treacle tart for the safe word. Harry had attempted to justify this by explaining that it was his favourite dessert, to which Malfoy’s expression had become unreadable and he muttered, “ _Of course it bloody is_ ” under his breath with no explanation.

Harry settled in the chair, relaxing his mind as best he could. He began to visualise a lake, cool and glittering when the sun hit it at certain angles. Malfoy had explained to him earlier that it helped to create a space for your mind to go to when starting out, like a waiting room between your thoughts. If anything went wrong, that was the place to go back to.

As he basked in the blue water, he heard Malfoy’s soft whisper of _Legillimens_ and the familiar feeling of someone entering his head. It was subtle that if he’d been in the street, he could easily mistake it for a gust of wind or the beginnings of a headache. But he knew better.

 _Don’t fight it, don’t fight it._ He repeated like a mantra, focusing all of his attention instead on the water. The feeling of it between his toes, the rays of sun on his back. The surface rippled and he knew Malfoy was there too, that he’d finally managed to enter Harry’s mind. 

And then Harry was falling, falling down into the murky depths of the water. But it wasn’t water anymore, the liquid was beginning to form into the walls and ceilings of privet drive.

_There was a small boy sitting on the floor, with messy dark hair in desperate need of a trim and green eyes filled with unshed tears. His arms were hugging his knees whilst a red faced man screamed at him._

_“Look at me whilst I talk to you, boy!” He boomed, his enormous moustache wobbling with rage. “I’ve just had a very interesting phone call from your teacher! How can you explain that?”_

_“I didn’t mean to!” Young Harry pleaded, “Really I didn’t! It just happened, I was trying to get away from Dudley and his friends, I have no idea how I got on the roof! One minute I was there and the next I was gone!”_

_“Don’t lie to me freak!” Vernon Dursley spat furiously. “You will tell them that you climbed up there, that you were bullying poor Dudley and hid up on the roof on the roof to avoid getting caught!”_

_“But I didn’t!”_

_That seemed to be the last straw for Mr Dursley, as he grabbed Harry’s collar, picking him up off the floor and slamming him against the kitchen table._

_“That is what you will tell them! Do you understand me?” When Harry didn’t reply, he shook him violently. “DO YOU?”_

_“Potter!” A voice from far away called his name, he knew that voice but he couldn’t remember where from. He was transfixed on the scene before him._

_"Yes, sir! It was me, I just climbed up there by myself and then lied about it! That’s what I’ll tell them.” Young Harry babbled desperately._

_“Potter! Potter we need to go!” There was that voice again. Funny. It was more urgent this time._

_“Good.” Mr Dursley’s smile twisted cruelly. “That’s what I thought.”_

_He began to drag Harry towards the cupboard, but just before he got there, he turned to face the cowering child, fists raised._

_“For fucks sake Potter! TREACLE TART!”_

The memory exploded all around him and suddenly Harry was back in the classroom, panting with shock. Malfoy was sitting opposite him in a similar state.

“Well,” Malfoy breathed, running a hand through rumpled hair. “That was pretty good for a first attempt, as good as can be expected anyway.”

Harry gaped at him slightly. “Are we…are we not going to talk about it?”

“Talk about what Potter?” Malfoy said, so offhandedly that Harry would think they had just witnessed a completely different thing if it wasn’t for the way that Malfoy’s hand’s were shaking slightly.

“Seriously? No comment about the saviours shitty childhood or something like that? I thought you’d love to be able to lord something like that over me.”

Malfoy shifted a little, looking serious. “Potter, I am in no place to judge bad childhood’s believe me. It’s normal for traumatic memories to pop up during these sessions. I have no doubt that you’ll be seeing some things in my head I’d much rather be kept private.”

He wasn’t sure how to react to that, part of him was desperate for a fight, adrenaline was pumping through his veins and it would be so _easy_ to get under Malfoy’s skin, to push him into battle.

But was it worth it anymore?

The war was over, the dead weren’t going to come back and choices had already been made. What was the point of falling back into the patterns which had started everything in the first place? He was so damn tired of holding onto this resentment.

“Why did you do it?” Harry’s voice didn’t sound angry, just weary and Malfoy shifted in his seat awkwardly.

“Oh Merlin I knew this was going to happen at some point, but do we really need to do it now?” Harry didn’t answer and he let out a long sigh. “Alright then. No point in delaying the inevitable Isuppose. We need tea, no one should have to have these sort of conversations without it.”

He waved his wand a small table appeared between the two of them, complete with two steaming mugs and a plate of sugared biscuits. Malfoy took a sip and raised an eyebrow when Harry made no move to drink it.

“Really Potter, I thought we’d moved past this. It’s not poison I promise.”

“Thats not what I- never mind.” Harry stuttered, picking it up and taking a tentative sip. It tasted like mint.

“To understand why I made certain decisions, you’ll have to understand how I was raised.” Malfoy began. “For the first eleven years of my life, I was raised to believe that pureblood were superior over others. I had no reason to doubt or question this, everyone I knew had the same mindset, I only ever played with pureblood children and went to pureblood parties. Why would I ever assume that what my parent’s were telling me was anything but the truth? People envied my mother and respected my father like they were gods and I adored them.

But then I went to Hogwarts and was suddenly surrounded by the people I’d be warned against my entire life. It was quite the culture shock to be perfectly honest. I was all set to play the part of the perfect Malfoy heir, when all of a sudden there’s this tiny boy with the most infuriatingly messy hair and clothes three sizes too big for him who everyone’s fawning over instead. You might not believe this but I was actually incredibly excited to meet you.”

Harry almost choked on his tea at this whilst Malfoy looked at him bemusedly. “You what?”

“I’d grown up on hearing stories about the famous Harry Potter, finding out I was going to school with him was like finding out I would be sharing classes with Merlin. Naturally, I assumed we would be best friends.”

At this, Harry really did choke on his tea and waved for Malfoy to continue whilst he attempted to stop coughing.

“But we both know how that turned out. I’d never been rejected before, it was very confusing. I was determined to beat you, to prove myself and impress my father but I never quite managed to. I mean really Potter? You killed a basilisk at twelve! How exactly does one top that? It would have been easier if I hated you.”

“You didn’t hate me?” Harry asked curiously at the last part and Malfoy blushed, suddenly very interested at picking at his sleeve.

“I meant- well obviously I hated you but I sort of respected you at the same time.” He said quickly, but Harry had the strangest feeling that he wasn’t telling the full truth. “Anyway, we’re getting off topic. Two days before the end of fifth year, my mother took me out of school unexpectedly, but instead of taking me back to the manor, we went to a house we owned in Italy. It was there that she told me that Voldemort was staying in my home and that I was going to become a Death Eater. It wasn’t a surprise, I knew he was back and that it was just a matter of time.” He laughed bitterly. “Do you know, I was almost excited? I thought, ‘Here’s the chance I’ve been waiting for, now my father will finally have a son he can be proud of.’ I felt that way for about a month. Then I realised I was trapped. I had nowhere to go, no one I could ask for help-“

“Dumbledore!” Harry cut across him. “Dumbledore offered you help.”

Malfoy blanched but continued. “How would I have known if what he was saying was the truth? This was the man who I was told was my enemy. The man who villianised me and me friends simply because we were in Slytherin? Why would I fight on the side of people who hated me? And even if he was to help me, would he have helped my parents? My father may not be a good man but he is still my father and despite everything, I would die three times over for him. I know I made the wrong choice but it was the only choice I had. So that’s why I did it Potter. Because I couldn’t let my parent’s die. And if that makes me a coward, so be it.”

“Did you know it was me? At the Manor?”

“Of course I knew it was you. I would recognise you anywhere.” Malfoy said and Harry felt a slight shiver run down his spine. He was overwhelmed, trying to imagine it from Malfoy’s perspective.

Would he have done the same if it was his parents? Remus and Sirius? Ron and Hermione? The answer scared him so he took another sip of tea purely so he had something to do with his hands.

“What were you hiding from him? With Legillimency?” He asked the question which had been bothering him for days.

Malfoy looked at him directly this time, grey eyes boring into green.

“Sometimes I care about people I shouldn’t care about.”

**Author's Note:**

> Part of me wants to make the next chapter focused on how Draco feels about Harry but is that too fast? I might do a filler chapter instead where Harry processes what Draco’s told him and we see more interactions with the rest of the characters


End file.
